


Bara Magna: The Weapon Makers

by Omicron_The_IceQueen



Series: Bara Magna [1]
Category: Bionicle - All Media Types, Bionicle Bara Magna
Genre: Adoption, Agori, Alien Culture, Arena culter, Awkward Flirting, Bara Magna, Bara Magna culture, Bionicle - Freeform, Bionicle Glatorian, F/M, Family, Glatorain, Learning culture, Trying to help, warrior culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omicron_The_IceQueen/pseuds/Omicron_The_IceQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the desert world of Bara life is, predictably, hard. The old half buried ruins leave mysteries of the past. The Glatorian defend and fight for the Agori people. But what of the weapon makers, those who are apart of the backbone of Bara...?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Blamph.”

“What was that?” The old Agori paused, only because he knew he could as the armor piece he was heating in the fire of his forge. Marok glanced behind him as the only other being that was of a higher intelligence within many leagues.

“I said ‘blamph.’” The lanky half made biomechanical being said from where she was sitting on the low table. She was nursing the her left arm where the most resent part of the under, or base armor was implanted. She had most of that base armor as well as the internal reinforcements.

“And why are you ‘blamph-ing’?” Marok asked returning his attention to his work.

It was a few moments before she spoke, spending that time to scratch one of the sand stalkers’ wedge shaped head, “I’m expressing my opinion of the world at large.” She said at last.

“Hmm... Almost done.” Marok warned, hearing some soft grumbling behind him. This was probably the worst part for the girl he knew, but the old Agori didn’t have anything to ease the pain. Once, long ago he had, but that was centuries past when Bara Magna had been whole.

To make matters worse for him was that the girl didn’t scream...Well, not a lot that is. Marok had made many Glatorian in his long life, most of all of them had to be tied down and restrained with chains stronger than them as they themselves became stronger, but this girl’s near silent suffering and lack of passing out did him in.

By the sands of Bara he was getting soft.

He had made most of all the vital armor first this time after implanted that first bit of base armor on the shoulder. He had even knocked her out before the slow process of controlled braking of bones and fusing metal internally. Why was he even bothering with all this? More so when he had said, publicly at that, that he’d never make another Glatorian?

Simple really.

Marok was getting old.

Having only two sand stalkers and a runt of a Vorox as company and protection wasn’t enough. In addition, Marok had come to realize one cold night when scavenging and after nearly freezing to death (saved only by the fact that his sand stalkers liked him because he kept them fed and had curled up to share body heat) that his knowledge had to be passed onto someone.

Then Marok had found a confused, dazed and lost female in the desert not three days later. He still thought it had been a gift from the Great Beings. Not in any sensual way, far from it, this was a blank slate of a person willing to learn for the sake of learning. Not like the Agori, Marok knew the flaws of his own kind and he didn’t trust any of those in the villages even if he did once come from one of them.

Yet a purely organic being had drastically lower chances of living for long in Bara Magna. Not with threats from the harsh elements, to the predators, to the rouge and banished Glatorian, and that was not even including the Bone-hunters and Skrall. So Marok started the semi long process of turning his new charge into a biomechanical being. It was pure luck he found he could turn her into a Glatorian. A smaller than normal Glatorian, but still a Glatorian none the less.

“A runt Glatorian and a runt Vorox, you have a set.” She’d joked a few nights ago, and Marok had seen the humor of it. He himself was bent with age, the only ‘normal’ members of their odd little group were the two sand stalkers.

“Alright,” Marok said as he pulled the armor bit out of the forge and turned to see the new Glatorian had already bitten down on the thing he’d made for her to do just that. It was going to be another long night for both and for the one, very painful as well.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

 

“You need a name.” Marok said one morning, he was leaning back against the male of his two sand stalkers, the female was balled up on the other side, both critters were sleeping. The old Agori was watching the new Glatorian as she relearned how to move. Having a new body tended to make a person be off kilter in the balance department. Never underestimate what new weighted armor that couldn’t be removed will do to your sense of balance.

It was a good thing the Vorox, Kiku, was tamed as much as it was, not to mention tolerant. He was putting up with being clung to in one form or another and helping the new Glatorian keep her balance as she took wary steps. Currently the two looked over, Kiku holding onto a gray, uncolored arm and shoulder to keep the girl from falling over sideways as she attempted to change her stance without really lifting a foot.

“Why?” the new Glatorian asked.

“Why?” Marok echoed the question and quirked up an eye ridge, “Have to call you something other than ‘girl,’ or ‘Glatorian.’”

“What’s wrong with that?” She corrected an over balance and kept on with the circuit around the clearing in the rocky landscape that was the equivalent of Marok’s side yard.

Marok rolled his eyes, “A Glatorian is a type of warrior, not a name.”

“Says who?” She asked though most of her attention was in placing one foot in front of the other. It was strange how much you didn’t realize how you took advantage of something as simple as walking until you had new legs to learn on all over again.

“A name is good to have,” Marok was saying, not having heard the question. “Even if at times it’s all you have, it’s still just yours to have.” He had a far away expression, looking not at the two in front of him, but into his own past with a small frown.

“Well, I don’t know any names other than what has been taken.” The Glatorian said after considering it and promptly tripped over a small rock that she was sure popped out of nowhere.

“Rera!” The Vorox’s quick movement pulled the new Glatorian back up to her feet, grasping her upper arms and chattering in his language, scolding was more like it. Marok did catch the one repeating word, and he thought about it. 

Kiku had been referring to the girl as ‘Rera’ for a long time. Marok ranked his mind for a translation back into Agori and came up with either ‘sweet little’ or ‘little sweet.’ “Not bad...”

“Eh?” The girl looked over from where she was half over the Vorox’s arm.

“Reh?” Kiku echoed, also looking up and over.

Marok nodded his chin, “Not bad at all.”


	2. Chapter 2

Kiku was thrilled at the name choice of course and, if possible, became more protective than before. Besides, it was nice for him to be the strongest of a group. Being abnormally short for a Vorox had driven Kiku away from one pack after another in order to survive when younger and not be killed for the reason of being so small. He was far from being a youth now and had fully developed armor so that was out of the question of trying that.

Not that the Vorox would think of leaving Marok, even before Rera had come. With the old Agori, Kiku had found not just a den but food and water but more importantly to his instincts, companionship. A pack.

Right now several weeks (or months) as well as multiple training sessions, face-plants, running around and some underground exploration later, the oddball family were inside for a night. There were several shelves and cubby holes that lining the walls of the underground tunnels dug into the small mountain. For the first part of the underground network was fairly filled with assorted weapons in all stages, from the raw, clean bones and metal, to the completed thing. There were also armor components from ankle guards to helms as well as shields neatly hung up on the walls, sometimes coving more important things from sight.

Also in the front part of the tunnel network were off shoot chambers, dug out years ago by the local Vorox, and well as maintained by him. These were used as guest chambers for costumers that came to the craftsman for augmentation jobs, either bio-mechanical to replacing a lost limb. They were also useful place for a quick nap while waiting for something in the outdoor forge. Farther back was Marok’s own large personal chamber. A new second chamber was being made by Kiku’s natural born digging skills, assisted by Rera to make her own chamber.

For now though, Kiku was curled up in front of one of the fore-caverns Rera was sleeping. Across the hall and farther back Marok was in another near the inner forge that was for more delicate work. He claimed he needed the heat at night thanks to his age, after all Marok couldn’t spend the morning in this cold season thawing out joints and bones by basking in the sun like Rera and Kiku did every day with the sand raptors and stalkers.

Marok had things to do after all!

...half of the time he was ‘thawing out’ with the rest of his now extended and strange family anyways.

Rera sighed, rolling onto her side in her cubby-like and looking around to see anyone was awake, more listening in the dim darkness. Unable to sleep herself, and not just because Rera needed less sleep then before augmentation, before becoming biomechanical... the Glatorian slipped out of her cubby. Rera had to watch her step so not to tread on the tail of one of the sand-stalkers, and their (organic) hatchlings, that had taken up the habit of sleeping under her and Marok’s cubbies for whatever reason.

Normally that wasn’t so bad, at least to Rera, even if sometimes she woke up with little sand-raptors (the name for the organic sand-stalkers) on her feet or cuddled up against her neck. Right now though it was making her get away difficult. She didn’t want to wake Marok, or Kiku for that matter.

For the first time Rera felt the need to be alone, threading her way out of her temporary ‘bedroom.’ Some part of her missing a real bed and a different mattress other then the moss stuffed one she currently had.

The woman slipped out of the network of hidden, dead lava tubes that made up the weapon makers’ home and work place. She pushed the covering blanket, more hide flap that covered the dividing entrance from the tunnel system to the open overhang space that was the start of the outside work place. She paused at the just short of the protecting outcropping’s edge, looking at the what she could see if the clearing, ‘yard’ where Rera had been doing exercises every day it seemed. First re-learning how to walk with Kiku, then working up to running and balance, finally the craft itself of being a Weapon Maker like Marok.

The outside world was a landslide of rocks and boulders that farther hid this valuable place, only a few people knew how to truly find Marok, such as the Primes from village and some caravan leaders. With the now growing pack of Sand Raptors and Stalkers regally patrolling the landslide, as well as the two nearby bone yards, this was as safe as a place could be on Bara Magna.

Right now though Rera shivered a bit, lifting her hands to rub her arms, taking the time to step back and get one of the thick robes that had been left by a Prime to be used when here. The fabric was well made, as well as thick enough to stave off not just the normal desert chill, but that of this cold season as well. Rera pulled the robe over her base armor, it was red in color with gold hems, it was big in the shoulders so the woman had to wrap it well around her as well as use a belt to hold it in place.

It was long enough to go nearly to the ground and cover her feet, and had a clinging, faint scent of the owner despite being a long time since the Glatorian had been here. It was a good scent, in Rera’s opinion, she liked this robe and one other. Marok hadn’t said anything about her not being allowed to try on and warring any of the stored robes, if anything he just laughed at the too big things on her.

Rera smiled as she remembered Kiku’s own reaction, near having a fit for some unknown reason before vanishing into rockslide and not coming back for a whole day.

The outer forges were still and cool, so there was a thin layer of fresh snow, nearly a hand span thick, it gave satisfying little crunches that sounded right to Rera as she walked. Tomorrow she would be working with the others in gathering as much of the snow as they could to add to the underground spring of theirs, to bring up the water level. It was far from low, but why waist the chance to add to the life giving substance according to Marok.

Rera stooped, pulling back a sleep to scoop up some of the snow, licking and biting into it. As it melted into something to drink, the woman continued out into the rockslide, fallowing a trail by memories without thinking about it until she came to where she wanted.

It was easy enough to climb up one of the larger boulders, and after brushing the snow aside and rearranging her barrowed robe, Rera settled down on the top to look upwards. There were thousands of stars shinning and glittering in the dark, as well as the misty space debris cloud that arched around Bara Magna and it’s two living moons. There was that stationary red star of the north east, the navigation constellation that always pointed to the northern most star...

...and there was the one cluster of stars that Marok had called ‘the warrior’ yet refused to tell her why or the back story like most other constellations. Only saying that Rera would need to ask another Glatorian, one of the right fighters; for some things he couldn’t or shouldn’t be the one to teach her. That of course seemed ridiculous to the woman, but then she soaked up all knowledge so fast that to be denied something miffed her.

Rera sighed and rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the moons again. Bota glowed in reflected light of the sun, swirls of dozens of shades from emerald green, jade, lime (what was that?), browns and tans. Sometimes an odd streak of red or violet would show up on the moon. Marok had claimed it was a mass blooming season up there on the moon since those patterns were never really the same.

The blue moon was just starting to raise now, the vibrant shinning water moon. Like its sister moon it was both a painful remainder of the planetary shattering, thanks to the Core War... but it was also a sign of hope.

Or so Rera liked to think, she rested her chin in her hands, watching the slow climb of Aqua Magna, it only came up about twenty prescient this time of year and in this section before starting to circle the horizon.

When it hung high and full in the sky of both day and night, it would be time for Atero. The gathering this part of Bara Magna did, for trade, services, the sacred time ‘Days of the Dead’ where those that left this world were honored and remembered. But more so, Atero was the time of glory for the Glatorian it seemed. The warriors, healers and weapon makers alike thrived there according to the remembered times Marok told her.

Soft clicking drew Rera out of her fantasies of Atero, fueled by those recited stories. Turning she looked over at the short Vorox that hopped up beside her, Kiku muttered tiredly as he first shook himself, clearing a spot of snow before thumping down gracelessly with his head in Rera’s lap. She smiled and started scratching the, relatively speaking, ugly head of the runt, though it was more different than anything to Rera.

Kiku melted and started purring softly at the attention, something he never really got out for the old Agori. The Vorox opened one eye and looked up as the Glatorian spoke.

“Someday Kiku, I’m going to Atero,” Rera said, “Going to learn everything Marok will teach me, and then I’ll be the best damn-fragging weapon maker on Bara Magna.”

Kiku chipped quietly.

Rera grinned down at him, “And you can have tiro roots to chew on all the time.”

The Vorox perked up with a whistling trill at her words as Rera laughed.

______________________________________________

“What is it?” Rera asked, tilting her head at the tree in front of her, it was desert warn and evolved, standing at her height. So relatively short for a tree, or amazingly tall for a bush, yet it had a thick enough trunk with white, leathery looking bark and branches that spread out and were weighed down by the pumpkin like ‘fruit’ that grew both on the branches as well as off shoots of the roots. The leaves were more prickly-pear like, only without the spines and a pale green shade. The ones hanging in the air had a more elongated shape, somewhat pear like while those on the ground actually did look like pumpkins.

Grey and white pumpkins...

Rera wasn’t quite sure why that word kept popping up in her mind.

The Glatorian female shifted, pushing her hair back as she scrolled through the data pad in her left hand. It was one of those Marok had carefully saved and preserved over the years, used for references, old healing ways as well as documents of his craft. Right now, the one Rera held was filled with fauna and flora identifications.

She, Kiku and three of the raptors were in the farthest of the bone yards near their home, looking for anything new and/or useful. The Vorox chirruped and then gave his ‘I know but don’t know how to tell you yet’ whistling tone. As fast as Rera was learning just about anything she could get her hands on, learning the Vorox language wasn’t as easy as Old Agori. And that’s saying something!

Rera was still learning it none the less, she knew more than Marok who had lived with Kiku for longer and he only mastered a few commands by watching, not continued practice.

That was beside the point at the moment as the woman continued to look there the pad until she stopped, “Hmm... daco trees, produces desert melons and drops that are an exultant substitute for lack of proper greenery in diet. Huh, that’s good. Says the hanging ‘drops’ tend to be sweeter to then the ground level ones. The leaves are a natural substance for cooling and aiding burns...sound like something useful.”

Rera looked up at the group of strange trees and then back to the currently empty cart that had been pulled by two currently bored raptors, now under the cart. How they got un-hitched but still keeping their harness’ on was just up there in those unknown mysteries. Not that Rera blamed them given this was late morning and the sun was out, soon their group would retreat away from the heat to rest while the worst of the heat passed by.

The woman stepped closer to the daco tree, but Kiku gave an alarm warble and pulled her back away from it. He chattered, not really angrily but pointed at the data pad Rera still held.

“What?” Rera squinted, “Say it again Kiku, but slower.” She listened intently as the Vorox complied and repeated himself. “…. ‘draw on?’”

Kiku snorted and repeated that word again.

“Oh, read.” Rera shrugged and reread aloud what she had already, and continued, “... oh. The tree has a defensive function. A natural paralyzing agent in grown ‘shards?’ along the upper branches... if disturbed too much those shards fall on both the harvester and the melons, possibly rendering inedible for Agori, Glatorian and possibly Skrall as well. Well frag.” She made a face, at least the shards didn’t affect the ‘drops’ as well.

Now how to get what she wanted and not spend the next day unable to move?

Rera walked back to the cart, attached the data pad to her hip to free her hands. She pulled aside the cover top to see what Marok had allowed her to take on this first semi-solo collection trip. There was water for the day and night, a few empty barrels and small crates to keep things sorted, a set of carving blades carefully wrapped up and a desert melon of all things. Frowning Rera picked up the pumpkin shaped melon and examined it from all angles, finding it smaller than those behind her as well as less full looking.

Not as ripe?

“Thanks Marok.” Rera said dryly as she set the desert melon down and looked back, leaning on the cart. Now she wanted one of those ones, and the drops as well... The woman blinked and looked down at what she was leaning on, the sleek tarp cushioning her.

The metaphorical light bulb was almost visible going off.

Grabbing the tarp Rera dragged it out of the cart, whistling for Kiku to help her. Once it was unfolded and spread out fully to judge the size and length of it before instructing Kiku to half drag, half lift it up and over to the tree. Rera was trying her best to work on her Vorox, instructing Kiku to hold one corner of the tarp as she walked around the daco. Making sure the ground melons were covered over by the tarp, and one edge of it neatly up against the tree, the outer edge just beyond the space of the tree top.

“There!” Rera grinned, reaching out to rub the side of Kiku’s neck, “Now for the second part of my plot!”

The Vorox paused his pleased humming to tilt his head and regard his pack-mate with one eye, murmuring a, “Eh?”

“Come on,” Rera motioned Kiku to fallow, grinning over her shoulder at the raptors, “You two stay and guard that!” She called, knowing the two weren’t going to move unless she or the Vorox gave an alarm or they caught a bad scent that could be a potential threat. 

Rera and Kiku walked to the far mechanical graveyard aside to the two true bone yards, only going in a little ways to what remain of the local half buried runes. The Vorox clicked in curiosity, wanting to know what to look for, and why.

“I need a pole, metal,” Rera explained as she climbed up the remains of what had been a scorpio leg centuries before either of the two were born. She reached into the stripped down bare remnants, tugging on this part, or pushing at that one over there. To the side a still confused Kiku started crawling around on another mound, he was testing parts much the same.

It took about a half an hour before Rera settled on and approved of long, rounded pole that was extracted from an ancient piston from the mechanical scorpio. Kiku fallowed the woman back to the tree, still baffled as to why all this was needed as they had a desert melon after all in the cart. It wasn’t until Rera lifted her new staff and used one end to start tapping the trunk of the daco, increasing in pressure of the taps to knocks until the tree shivered and started losing its shards of crystallized sap. They glittered like jeweled snow as the shards fell down onto the tarp.

Rera made sure to ‘annoy’ the tree from a few angles to be sure all the semi clear shards were off and resting on the tarp. The woman grinned at the sudden understanding on Kiku’s face, “See?”

Kiku chirrup an affirmative as he nodded.

“Go grab one of those barrels.” Rera instructed, pointing at the cart, “We’ll save the shards of this daco tree and the others as well as the melons and drops.” She chuckled; pretty sure Marok wouldn’t expect her to bring back this potentially useful product.

Harvesting the desert melons and drops, as well as some of leaves was surprisingly easy enough once the danger was out of the way. All it took was a sharp knife and passing the fruits to Kiku to stack in the cart, selecting the palest and fullest of the waxy leaf-pads and putting them in a bag after the other barrel was filled. The process was repeated the rest of the day and by night the woman, Vorox and raptors were enjoying the rare sweet treat that was the desert drops, when a melon in quarters roasted along with a reptile creature over their sheltered fire.

Kiki hummed and purred at Rera, who was back to reading her data pad again, now alert to looking for organic things as well as supplies for weapons and armor. Food and possible medical goods were just important not only for themselves but trade too.

Marok said he was going to bring Rera to the nearest village, Tesara after both this trip and the resulting lessons when Rena brought her gathered ‘loot’ back. As the woman started to fall asleep against one of the raptors, Kiku resting his head on her lap, some part of her mind was still working, absorbing what she had learned today and thinking of how to use that knowledge. Unknowing that she was starting to show another talent that would be useful in the years to come, but more so in the next one.


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of coughing penetrated Rera’s concentration on the sword she was making, and she looked up from the outside forge she was working at. Scanning around the orderly clearing in front of entrance to home...

Well... okay, it looked more like controlled chaos at the moment.

There were several outdoor forges around her, although only two of the five were blazing with heat and light, having been going all night. Rera was in front of one, she had very little armor on at the moment other than the integrated base level to stay cool. Heat shields were attracted to the front of her torso as well as something like a welder's hat over the face and neck to further protect against the forge heat.

There was a long table set up to Rera’s left, with the strips of unshaped metal and bones that she had collected the past week with Kiku. One at a time she was slowly joining and turning them into the assorted weapons Marok had assigned her as a test. The two forges where stationed on either side, spaced apart so not to interfere with each other. One was for the work and the other for cooling down the blades in sections.

Rera turned around to the only other person here that wasn’t a raptor or Vorox. Somehow his faded green armor seemed to have lost more of its shade from earlier that morning. Perhaps it was only his visible hide as the man didn’t have all his armor on in the first place. Marok looked more tired than ever before and he was sitting on top of a creature that was loosely curled up, the Sand Stalker craning its neck and head around to chirp worriedly at her master.

“Marok?” Rera asked, pulled back from the forge after setting the joined weapon aside on the table to start cooling. She reached up to lift her over-shield away from her face as Kiku started unburying himself on the far side of the clearing.

The Agori opened his mouth to assure his two family members that he was fine, but another set of wracking coughs didn’t let him. Marok had to use the handle of his upside down hammer for more support, his body trembling from the force and gasping for air, any air at all. Hot hands caught his shoulders, hot but not unbearable. He squinted at the blurring forms of Rera, heard her voice yet not the words. Kiku’s trilling alarm sound broke through and the old Agori finally drew in a ragged breath as the Glatorian gave his back a quick, forceful slap.

Another breath was dragged into his lungs, and another... along with the life giving air Marok’s senses crawled back, but not completely.

“Marok?” Rera was asking again as she held the elder, using her body to support him partly, “Keep breathing like that, slow and deep. Marok? Father? ...Kiku,” She whistled for attention, motioning the Vorox out of the way with her free arm as she lifted the Agori, half caring, half leading him back into their underground home, “Get some water for him.”

Kiku murmured as he darted ahead and deeper into the natural cave system. When he came sliding back into the entry chamber, both Glatorian and Agori were missing, Kiku gave a protesting yelp, clasping a gourd container of water in his forepaws. The runted Vorox chattered before lifting up on his hind legs and sniffing, Kiku moved, fallowing the scent of his two favorite persons.

He tracked them to the closest of the sleeping chamber, a place costumers stayed while waiting. An off shoot ‘bubble’ in the earth, with two bunks carved into the lava rock, one on top of the other and mats that the Vorox himself regally re-stuffed with cave moss. Rera was pulling the last of the detachable armor off Marok where he was now laying on the bottom bunk, his underlying skin pale under its natural dark pigments. Kiku whistled softly as he came closer, holding the gourd out as he watched his pack-elder’s short shallow breaths. A worried sound came out of his throat when Kiku found he couldn’t see Marok’s eyes open.

“Good boy Kiku.” Rera said, taking the water container from the Vorox, giving that demanding ‘command’ whistle again for his attention. She grasped Kiku’s oddly shaped head, the underside of his blunted muzzle, making him look at her and keep looking, “Go get the blue and green box now. Understand Kiku? The big blue and green box, in the medicine room, the big blue and green box.”

Memory kicked in and Kiku clicked in an affirmative as he remembered where the requested box was. Once free he scrambled off on all fours to retrieve it with all the speed he could muster without crashing into any walls. Well, nor more than two walls.

Rera turned back to her mentor and father figure, taking a moment to catalog what was wrong with him. Shortened breath, cool to the touch in some spots and hot on others, it didn’t make sense to her nor match up with anything Rera had read thus far in Marok’s medical files or lectures.

“I’m a weapon maker not a healer...” Rera muttered looking up, hoping the Vorox wouldn’t take too long as she rose to fetch a blanket. She paused and started at the carving in one wall, a basic outline of the area, with painted on smaller details. There was her shared home, the three bone yards beyond the avalanche, the different paths up to Iconox and down the mountain... and Tesara.

Tesara the twin village, one of the very few places that echoed Bara Magna that was with underground rivers to feed the trees and plants in the half jungle.

“Tesara, the village of healers,” The Glatorian muttered, looking at her father and then down to her own hands. The pale green of her armor was already starting to wash out from the sun and heat of the forges, but from what Marok had said a few times after the evening meal, was that he used to be from Tasara. He had found her on the way back from his last trip there.

The gears turned as Rera moved to put the blanket on the Agori, folding a second one over his feet just the way Marok preferred normally. She had plenty of time to start up a fire in the cooking pit in the other wall, fetch a pot and water and started it simmering when Kiku pulled the semi large box from the medicine room. Opening the box, or maybe small crate would be more of an apt description for it, Rera took out the book inside while looking over the shelves of small glass bottles and jars that lifted with the lid. The girl may remember pretty much everything she learned by listening and reading, but it didn’t hurt to double check what the book said, what the healer had printed in the book of what seed, leaf and sometimes liquid was and what it did and didn’t do.

Kiku chirped a question, hovering by Marok as the old Agori seemed to finally drop in to true unconsciousness on the bed. The runt Vorox looked back to Rera, muttering his worry in his native language, not wanting to lose the thorny yet beloved elder.

“He’s not going to die Kiku.” Rera assured looking up and reading labels before picking two full jars, one with a black and white power mixure, the other with dried pieces of purple shaded leaves, “Not if I can help it.” She added, measuring out the amount needed from both jars and put into the steaming water of the pot. Rera traded the jars out for others, repeating the action of adding things into the pot from the case.

The Vorox snorted, his tone taking a thoughtful inflection as he whistled.

“I know I’m not a full healer.” Rera growled back as she held one last jar, staring with a heart-light that seemed to be cracking as she looked at the ten black seeds inside of the glass container. That wasn’t enough, not in the slightest, the broth needed more like half to three quarters of a jar for this. The Glatorian closed her fingers over the small jar, holding it against her as Rera made up her mind, “But I’m going to get one up here.”

Kiku’s alarm trill was cut off as he all but chocked himself to keep from waking Marok. The Vorox grew more agitated as the only female of his pack closed the case before rising, looking back at the map on the wall. Hissing in displeasure the creature slid closer, tugging at Rera’s nearer leg in protest at the idea, Kiku knew very well his girl had never gone farther than the bone yards from her home, and never alone.

“No Kiku,” Rera said firmly with a sharp whistle and the Vorox hopped a little in turn, she leaned over to pull his head close enough to rest hers on it. “No... I’m going Kiku, Marok has favors owed him from near half the population. Or so he says,” The woman knelt, still with her head against Kiku’s, “But we only need one healer, I’m going to go through Marok’s debt accounts to see what healers owe him, and who is actually in the top class.”

The runted Vorox whined softly, slowly understanding, as well as something else even before Rera spoke her nest words.

“I need you to stay here Kiku,” Rera chocked, took a deep breath and continued even as it scared her so much she was sure the Vorox could smell it, “Stay here with Marok, with father, and make sure he eats, drinks and makes it to the out-room and back. I’m taking one of the Sand Stalkers.”

“Rera ra’ru ta.” Reaching up at hearing a muffled sound from the Glatorian, Kiku wrapped his arms around his sweet-little, pulling her into a tight embrace to reassure her he would care for the pack elder. He chirped a half hearted comment, getting a soft chuckle in return.

“I know not to be stupid,” Rera assured hugging the Vorox back, “I know I need to think of what to pack, and to shut down the forge.” In fact she was already thinking of what to pack and what to start cooking for Marok, not wanting him to have nothing but Kiku’s poor cooking while she was gone. It was easy enough to use the forges for that, and they had done that before by putting a large stew pot on the top of the smaller forges and on the front shelf of the larger ones.

Rera stood, ready to send all the raptors out hunting but found the whole pack, even the chicks were gone already to do just that. They had left as soon as they understood one of their extended family members was sick, to hunt of their own accord. That left Rera to pull out some of the desert melons and drops she had gathered not a week ago as well as the larger of the cooking pots. 

I need to organize myself, Rera thought, stopping everything and stood, “Okay, first; I need to start the forges on their cool down. Second, food for Marok and Kiku, previsions for myself and the raptor. Third, go through the debt logs.”

Taking another deep breath the woman stood more up right before heading outside.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Malum came across the female Glatorian completely by random. The heat of the day was about to reach it's peak when the man walked into the semi cavern, the ceiling at least twice as high as he was tall, ten feet wide at the entrance and deeper in it was around twenty, and it was probably forty feet deep. So in other words it was shaded, cool and had air flow, even if he had to duck a bit at first.

Even the sandy floor was blessedly cool under Malum's clawed feet. His pack could dig themselves deep enough to cool sand and earth just about anywhere, but he couldn't. Not with loose sands, nor could he breathe under there like the Vorox and Zesk could (he still didn't understand how they did). So if not in his home 'territory' and able to use that massive underground tunnel network, he had to find some other kind of shade. Like this niche.

A niche that was already occupied...

Malum paused, surprised and wary at the same time. Surprised at finding the woman out here and with two sand raptors no less curled up with her, wary because they was a both adult raptors he didn't know, thus meaning a whole new pack. One had that red crest of an alpha male and painted red and white on the sides... That almost guaranteed that there was-

Wait.

The pirate eased himself quietly down on one knee, studding the pair without getting into range to wake the raptor. Both had pale sun and heat faded armor, the original color whatever it was, was long since split up and unidentifiable at this point. Malum thought the raptor was at least a good thirty or forty years old, and _healthy_.

Agori made the mistake of thinking old sand raptors were more docile. Malum knew better though, he had seen an aged raptor fight against a pack of Vorox, and tare apart Vorox twice their size. The things were _nasty_ when they wanted to be, having all those years of experience, but then again like any Vorox they were extremely loyal to those they considered family, their pack.

Apparently like the woman was, as she was curled and cuddled up to it as the trio slept through the worst of the day's heat.

Now the question of what to do; stay here or try finding another cavern?

Malum looked back out the entrance he'd squeezed through, to the blinding and currently dangerous day time heat. Indigo eyes squinted as he saw no movement other than shimmering heat waves and the shine of sun reflecting off sand to create a well-known illusion of false water.

The sand pirate grimaced as his outer most layer of armor pinged softly as it cooled down. It didn't wake the raptors as the other Glatorian's armor was doing the same, if at a slower rate, so the sound wasn't out of place to wake the two creatures.

Sighing, Malum walked carefully deeper into the cavern, keeping to the sand and to his right, away from the sleeping pair. It would give each of them space so that they wouldn't disturb each other if one party left. The red armored male used his killing claws and hands to dig out a hollow in the sand big enough for him, and with a tired sigh rolled his bulk into the depression. Shifting his shoulders and back into the wonderfully cool sand to get comfortable before folding his hands over his front. That position also gave him the range to protect his head or throw off an attacker.

Malum didn't sleep exactly either, not when he wasn't alone, but dozed in and out. Letting his body rest while he could, and most of his mind, while still keeping aware of the woman and the raptors. Malum couldn't help after a while of wondering what she was doing out here. He considered the packs he'd seen, two saddle bags sets and single strap bag the Glatorian female probably wore.

Self-titled King of the Sands wasn't about to push his luck and go investigate what was inside of the bags. Though he estimated the size of them and their current location. Malum guessed she was heading to the twin villages of Tesara, he just couldn't figure out why the woman was traveling alone and not in a caravan. The thought of stealing barely came up, Malum was a pirate and hated male on the sands of Bara Magna for a good reason, even if he had to constantly defend his title. But… well… he couldn't do this to a lone female. Instincts wouldn't let him, and Malum rarely rose his killing claws to females outside of an arena battle, in defiance but again very rarely offensively.

Taking a deeper breath, Malum sorted the scents he could pick up, being forced to live on his own and then with a Vorox pack had improved his senses by necessity. It was either get better, or loose out in resources from hunting food and water, to keeping alert for Bone Hunters and Scrall.

Here and now though, Malum could smell burned white-rock, heated metal and bone, lingering traces of moss and other plants. One dark indigo eye cracked open as the male regarded the female Glatorian as he placed the mixture. This wasn't a nomad daring to try an out dated rite or erred. What in the world would a weapon maker be doing out here in the valley alone?

With that little armor to shield against the heat in the day, even in the cold season it got _hot_. So hot that even season Glatorian risked being baking or boiling in their armor if they traveled too long in day time.

Malum soundlessly tapped the killing claws on his left arm in the cool sand before digging them in and closing his eyes ones more, enjoying the moment of feeling the claws cooling down against his nerves. He did that to his other claws after a few minutes, trading off to always keep one set out. Though he was sensing he didn't need to for now. Time passed slowly in the heat, but to a dosing- or sleeping, mind it passed the time in a better rate.

The sound of movement had the man opening one eye, a slit amount to peer out and watch the younger of the two raptors was sniffing at his right foot. That bigger Alpha was scenting and carefully inspecting the man's tracks from the entrance, the arching path to his made hollow. Finding no evidence of aggression or too much attention to the woman the Alpha raptor sat beside the first made hallow the trio had made earlier. He could see the woman shifting and lifting her head, after feeling around and finding herself alone in the hallow of sand.

She seemed confused at first, likely not expecting to wake alone or just away from her obvious protection. As she was sitting up, Malum could see that she kept her hair longer then normal, not cropped short for under a helm that was to one side. The red and black armored man didn't move as she stretched and started looking for her Sand Raptors.

The thinly armored woman froze once turning spotting him, and they stared at one another for several long moments. It was interesting to see the startled, moment of fear of seeing a stranger, yet no recognition of who he was flashed. No panic scrambling to get away or yelling that would have triggered the creatures to attack. This was strange; it wasn't bad and rather refreshing to Malum but still strange none the less.

Pale green-blue eyes blinked, before the woman gave a small wave, "Good afternoon?" She spoke the half greeting half question softly, as if not to disturb to the natural quiet of the cavern.

Malum blinked darker indigo eyes back before lifting on hand, the killing claws remaining mostly still as he raised his hand in a half wave attempt back. A neutral growl like rumbling coming out of his chest, "Hello little one," He replied back, arching an eye brow.

"Peace?" The woman asked as she glanced at the opening and still saw the heat waves.

Malum nodded as he resettled with his hands and claws folded over his front once more, "Peace," He agreed and hummed in what he hoped was a reassuring way, "You have my word."

The younger of the two raptors moved back to curl up around the woman's back, rubbing his head against her leg until she started petting him. That Alpha male no longer was hyper alert but laid down where he could watch Malum. The Glatorian male relaxed a notch or two as well, though he opened one eye again as he heard the woman move in her spot and hearing a faint sloshing of a water gored to sip. Malum leaned back into the cool sands, not too bothered by that, as he had his own water.

"Do you think another hour or so?" The woman asked glancing over.

"At the bare least, I would suggest you waiting around two or three more hours," Malum answered as he flicked his killing claws to motion at the woman with the backs of them, "You have thinner armor, not insolating against wasteland heat from what I can see."

"I was thinking that," The woman sighed and glanced at the daylight streaming into the cooler cavern. Not that it was truly cold here but the warmth of the air was far more comfortable then in the direct sunlight.

"Where are you heading?" Malum asked after some time to think, "The closest village is Tesara."

"That's where I'm heading, if slowly, but yes." The woman nodded, "is there something I should be aware of?"

"Stick to the white rock ridges," Malum said slowly, tilting his head as he realized he was freely giving advice. "It might add a day to your trip but you will likely avoid a Scrall hunting pack, maybe any vorox."

The woman bit her lower lip, glancing at the entrance again, "Scall? I'd rather make peace with vorox..."

Malum snorted.

"Vorox are great creatures," The woman responded frowning, "If it weren't for Kiku-"

"Kiku?" Malum echoed, inadvertently cutting her off, and he sat up, "Marok's runt? How do you know them?"

The woman arched her eye brow now, "Marok is my father. Kiku helped me walk and relearn to move after I was upgraded to biomechanical." She wrapped an arm around one of the sand raptors, the motion like one getting comfort from the creature, from pack mates.

Malum glanced down, closing his right hand into a fist and feeling his awareness shifting to his killing claws, watching them flex and shift independent of one another, "Marok made my claws, and my armor." He said and looked back up, his eyes narrowing slightly and not just against a hot breeze that swept in. "How are you his daughter? You are Glatorian."

"I'm a child of the sands," The woman shrugged, gently scratching alongside of the raptor's crest, "Marok is the only father I know of."

"What is wrong with him?" Malum asked, not really ignoring the alpha raptor that was back to eyeing him now that the man was sitting up.

"Why would you think something is wrong?" The woman asked with a frown.

Malum used the backs of his claws to motion to the pale armored woman, "You barely have two layers of armor, the base armor is exposed and not designed for the average two layers of warriors. Your armor itself isn't meant for travel or long expositor to desert heat and cold. Marok would never let any newly augmented Glatorian out to the sands if he could help it or at least yell."

It took a little while of quiet debating before she decided to speak, "Father is sick," the woman looked back to meet the male's indigo gaze, waiting for his response.

"...and you're going to try and find a healer in the twin villages," Malum guessed, putting it together, and then he frowned again, "Have you traveled at all in the Bara Sands?"

"I can't remember," The woman shrugged, looking down, "It was just sand and heat before Marok found me."

That made sense, and also why the old Agori hadn't been to Atero or just out and about the last years if he had been raising a youth abandoned in the desert. But the woman didn't seem like a rookie youth, so the weapon's maker must have found her a long while ago, either before or after his last visit a fifty years ago. If before, that was impressive- though Malum hadn't been there long after, except to get a few hot meals before taking his pack back home. And Marok had access to a deep old laval tubes, so maybe it wasn't too hard to keep a youth out of the way.

"My name is Rera," The woman said, smiling a little at the big red and black armored male.

Malum blinked, surprised at hearing the Vorox word, remembering hearing it spoken to young cubs and Zesk kittens. "Vorox?"

Rera tilted her head before give a soft whistle-chirp, and then it was her turn to look surprised when the man whistled a slightly different greeting back. His own accent was flawless, though clearly deeper in tone.

"My name is Malum, Rera." The male introduced back, inwardly bemused at this change to his normal. "I will see you safe to Tessa's boarder, though I will not enter."

"I have nothing to offer," Rera hesitated as the male waved a hand- and those killing claws in a dismissive way.

"I won't ask for payment for this," Malum said, paused and rested back in his own sand hallow, "Marok is as old as my sire, I've known him since I was young, and he is the only one I trust with my claws. But he has giving me much after...what happened in the arena. If you are his daughter, I have honor enough to see you safe."

Rera looked down, and then back up with a grateful smile, "Thank you." She said softly.

For a moment Malum ignored the fact that he liked it that at least one person on Bara Magna, that wasn't a Vorox or Zesk, didn't hate and fear him on sight. He did smile when Rera turned to check her raptors.


End file.
